The Dead Room by Chris Mooney Read Free Book Online Page A

person behind the wheel was a schizophrenic recently released from prison. My father approached the vehicle and for some reason this person shot him.’
    ‘And he died?’
    ‘My father managed to radio for help, but by the time he was rushed to the hospital he had lost too much blood. He was already brain dead. My mother made the decision to pull him off life support, and he died.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘Before you were born,’ Darby said. ‘How old are you?’
    ‘I’ll be thirteen next March.’
    Twelve , Darby thought. Someone had tied a twelve-year-old boy down to a kitchen chair seated across from his mother .
    ‘What happened to your arm?’
    ‘I strained a muscle or something, and the doctor gave me this sling,’ John said. ‘Can I ask you a question?’
    ‘You can ask me anything you want.’
    ‘The person who shot your father, did they catch him?’
    ‘Yes, they did. He’s in jail.’
    The boy looked at the gun clipped to her belt. ‘Are you a cop?’
    ‘I’m a special investigator for the Criminal Services Unit. I help victims of violent crimes. Can you tell me about the people who taped you down to the kitchen chair?’
    ‘How’d you –’ His lips clamped shut.
    ‘The skin along your wrists and your cheeks,’ Darby said. ‘Those are marks left from duct tape.’
    He turned his head to the window. He blinked several times, his eyes growing wet.
    Darby placed a hand on his knee. The boy shuddered.
    ‘I’m here to help. You can trust me.’
    He didn’t answer. From outside the room came a steady beep-beep-beep from some piece of machinery and the murmured voices of Pine and the patrolman. The talking stopped. Darby wondered if they were standing near the door, trying to listen.
    ‘But how do I know?’
    ‘Know what?’
    ‘That I can trust you,’ he said.
    ‘You asked for my father.’
    ‘And you said he’s dead.’
    ‘I’m his daughter.’
    ‘So you say.’
    Darby reached into her pocket. She removed the creased photo from her wallet and placed it on his lap.
    ‘This is a picture of my father,’ she said.
    He picked up the photo of her father dressed in his patrolman’s uniform. A gap-toothed six-year-old girl with emerald-green eyes and long auburn pigtails sat on his lap.
    ‘Is this you?’
    Darby nodded. ‘Do you recognize him?’
    ‘I’ve never met your father.’ He handed the picture back to her. ‘For all I know this photo is a fake.’
    ‘See this laminated card hanging around my neck? The picture matches the one on my licence. Here, look.’
    He did.
    ‘I’m Thomas McCormick’s daughter.’ She said the words softly; she didn’t want this to be a confrontation. ‘You can trust me. But if you want me to help, you have to be honest with me.’
    He said nothing.
    ‘What’s your father’s name?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ John said. ‘I never met him.’
    ‘Do you have a stepfather?’
    ‘My mom never got married.’
    ‘Do you have any other siblings?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘What about aunts, uncles or cousins?’
    ‘My mom… It was just me and her.’
    His lips clamped shut again, then his eyes. His chest heaved in the air and he started to tremble.
    ‘It’s okay.’ Darby took his hand. ‘It’s okay.’
    ‘My mom…’ He cleared his throat and tried again. ‘She said that if something happened to her, if I ever got into trouble or was scared, I had to call Thomas McCormick. She said he’s the only police officer to trust. She told me not to talk to anyone else, under any circumstances.’
    He started bawling.
    ‘My mom’s dead and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.’

10
    Darby grabbed a box of tissues from the nightstand. John Hallcox did not take the tissues but he took her hand and held it while he sobbed.
    Drops of rain flecked the window. She wondered if the Wonder Twins had found anything inside the woods. It was easier to look out of the window and think about Randy and Mark searching the muddy ground for evidence, to think about